Adventure Magazine Cover — page 46: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

REFUGE by Harold Willard Gleason mate D what’s to cure an aching heart Beneath a jacket blue For a lass’s lips and a lass’s vows, And all the while untrue? Why, the whistle of the wind, lad, The sting of salty spray, And the blood-red moon arising From the harbor of Bombay. And what’s to dry the tears that well And smart wi’in the eyes For fond old hands now folded, Fond hearts beyond the skies? Why, following the whale’s path Afar from earking land, With a chanty drowning the capstan’s creak— “Bound for Rio Grande.” And what’s to bring forgetfulness Of sodden days ashore, And nights—black, burning memories Of liquor, lust and gore? Why, tight ships and taut sheets And surges white-and-blue, For, race or roll, sail safe or wreck, There’s mastery for you! And what’s to end it all, lad, When heads are old and gray, For him who dreads the willéws’ wo, The churchyard’s mold and clay? Why, let him slip to leeward— One plunge—green water’s roar— And sleep among the coral caves With shipmates gone before. 44 COMmiclboooks.Gom